Stand Tall Simone Biles, I'm a Quitter Too

This post was originally written July 21st, 2021

It is an astonishingly beautiful day outside. 

I woke before the sun rose to a crisp chill in the air that signals the season will soon begin to change. And though the weather app on my phone tells me it will warm to over 80º this afternoon, this morning is absolute perfection. 

The kind of weather that invites a morning walk or coffee on the deck as the birds trill their daybreak song. 

But I know, as I walk past the front door and the dappled sunlight scattered across the rug, that I will do neither of these things. I fill my mug with more coffee, return to the nest I've made from the pillows, blankets, and books scattered across my bed. I may not even pull the curtains all the way open today. 

Do I need to open the curtains to enjoy the breeze that sweeps in through the screen?

There was a time when I would guilt/shame myself into saying yes. Yes, this is too beautiful of a day to waste here in bed. Yes, this day demands a walk and also a tweet about my walk and the nature I enjoyed, and here's a beautiful picture of the acorns and feathers I found. 

This is the artists life after all. We were made to be astonished. And share such beauty with you, those who live in the world beyond our computer screen. See what beauty I notice? See what a contemplative life I lead? Look at my garden, green and organic. 

Come see the bird, the feather, the tree, be astonished with me. 

Posting images carefully crafted to entice, invite longing, instill wont in your soul to imagine you also could have this life. This slowed down, rat-race leaving, soul care giving way. 

But that tweet and those beautiful images on a day like today would be naught but a lie.

Slowly, I am opening myself to the knowing inside, that tells me I've driven myself too far. Said yes to too many things. Sacrificed my own well being on the altar of people-pleasing and what will other people think. Slowly, I begin to reflect on the culmination of these bullies that live inside of me, the ones that tell me that a day in bed is for losers. That the instinct to snuggle deeper into these blankets when that sunshine is dancing in the sky for me is simply too indulgent. 

This day is for living and living is done with motion. Bed is for sleep, illness, depression. What excuse do I have?

This day comes on the heels of too many dishonest yeses. Yeses that were driven by fear of being perceived as unloving, unkind, unmotivated. Yeses that were driven by desire to do more, be more, please more. Yeses that ignored that niggling doubt that rose inside-- the one that was my truest voice. My intuition. My knowing. Yeses that reasoned away the lack of available time on the calendar and the new understanding of my need to surround the busiest days with the slowest in order to truly thrive. 

There have been clues in this week of too many yeses. Clues that perhaps I should sprinkle in some well placed no's. An outburst or two of anger. A flash of resentment-- this one is always a clue. Sobs bubbling up for absolutely no reason, except for all the stuffing of my own knowing. 

I look at a picture of myself, posted as a collection of images taken at a family celebration and see the vacancy sign in my eyes, the grimace that passed for a smile. Instantly I recognize that mask I am wearing. The one I have worked so hard to remove. Instantly I know I am in trouble, when I see that person, staring at me from the screen. 

She is pleading with me to return. I have abandoned her there in the land of too many yeses. 

My old fear mantra was instilled before I was born. It came from an era when survival depended on appearance. When gossip could ruin a woman and destroy the rest of her life. What will people think was ruler and lord. 

Authenticity? Vulnerability? Ha! What silly indulgences. Conform. Conform. Conform.

Living according to the rule of what other people think and its partner, people pleaser, and the other one, approval seeker, requires the self to step aside. Wants, needs, thoughts, opinions? Better check with the authorities, your voice is not to be trusted. Absolutely no asserting of oneself into the equation, who do you think you are there Missy? Getting too big for your britches?  You should be grateful for this scrap of affection and the attention you are receiving!

The only way to survive is to hide. Put on the mask. The grimace smile. Hide your truest self. Hide or you will be judged and found out to be the fraud, the phony, the inept mess that you are. 

Wear that mask long enough and Elvis has left the building. Imposter syndrome quickly follows. 

Yesterday I gratefully came to the very end of my yes rope. Tattered and frayed, that rope and me. I sat in front of my computer and my planner and looked at the impossibility of it all. I felt a gun to my temple, (metaphorically, don't fret). I heard a voice, (the kidnapper, the hostage?) Simultaneously it threatened and pleaded "its either them or me!"

I sat back in my chair in resignation. I can't choose. 

I quit. 

Today I woke to the sun dancing its dappling light and the birds trilling their daybreak song. 

Today I sit in my own nest and the answer to that question rises proud and strong. 

It's me. 

I choose me.